


these tornadoes are for you

by likewinning



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Comment Fic, for the prompt "you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	these tornadoes are for you

**Author's Note:**

> prompt quote and title from Siken, obviously.

You're in his safehouse. You're not sure who the safety is supposed to pertain to, when Jason never seems anything but tense and you're –

Terrified.

And you should be. You _should_ be, because you broke in here knowing he wasn't far, wasn't off _world_ or even out of the city.

In retrospect, you wish you'd worn your costume. You feel naked without it, just jeans and a t-shirt and scuffed-up sneakers that would give Alfred a heart attack if he ever saw them. But it's daytime, and so –

And so –

"What are you _doing_ here, Drake?" he asks, and you figured by the time he got past holding you by the throat for a bit you'd actually have an answer, but it turns out – "I," you start.

He actually could kill you, you realize. Breaking and entering is something all of you have done for years, but it actually is _illegal_ , and Jason has every right –

He lets you go, and you at least have the grace not to fall completely to the floor. He's hovering over you, shadow thrown over yours like a really good impression of Batman, and _he's_ still dressed like he's ready to fight, except for the mask.

Right now, you'd almost prefer it to the way he's looking at you like he's – finally – figured you out.

You push yourself up, and he's still so much bigger and taller than you, and you can feel yourself _shaking_ , but you say, "I wanted…"

He waits, puts his hand on your neck, thumb brushing your throat, and he's not wearing gloves so you can feel _him._ "You wanted _what_?"

"You," you finish, and he backs off like you burned him or like he just needs enough room to throw a punch – no. He's laughing, hollow like the grave he dug himself out of.

"No, you don't," he says when he's done. He moves, and for a second you're sure he's reaching to touch you, but then he changes his mind or –

"You're better off just forgetting me like the rest of them have," he says, and then _you're_ laughing, quiet and almost _helpless_.

"Jason," you say. "You think we _forgot_ about –" He's staring at you, and it almost makes you lose your place, but you're _here_ and Robin isn't just a _costume_. "No one's – there's a – you're not even dead anymore and there's still has a fucking _shrine_ to you."

He breathes out, and his lips twitch, and he says, "So go worship," and you know it's supposed to scare you off, you know how this is all _supposed_ to work (you went to _public school_ for fuck's sake, you know what happens when you tell another boy the truth), but you drop to your knees, and.

" _Don't_ ," he says, and at first you think he means _no_ , but he pushes you down and your back hits the floor and he's crawling on top of you, hovering like the ghost he used to be, and his breath hits your face and you're waiting for his hands at your throat again, for a punch or a kick or a _bite_ -

The way he kisses you leaves more of a bruise than any of those things.


End file.
